


The Duel

by ObsidianMichi



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 23:02:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3955228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianMichi/pseuds/ObsidianMichi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When an invitation to one of the most popular soirees at Val Chemin arrives at Skyhold, it throws the Inner Circle into a tizzy, even more so as they discover the host, Marquis Alberico de Caetani has challenged Inquisitor Alix Trevelyan to a duel. This annual tradition forces Iron Bull to reflect that he might not know her as well as he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Duel

The note arrived at Skyhold on a Saturday, one week before First Day and the beginning of Verimensis. Carried by a messenger who would allow none to see him but Inquisitor Trevelyan. The leather wrapped envelop stank of Orlesian oils and fine lilac perfume. It was heavy, a good three or four pounds, and carrying a letter written on properly pressed linen embossed in gold. Someone had taken the time to embroider the edges of in marigolds and emblazoned the small rearing stallion of the Trevelyan crest in the lower corner.

“Fancy,” Iron Bull muttered as the courier lay it on Alix Trevelyan’s desk.

She rolled her eyes. “The fanciest.”

“You going to open it?” Bull asked.

Alix turned away from the desk. A small smile tucked the corners of her mouth. “I’ve got some time,” she said. Tracing her fingers up the line of his chest, she let her eyes drag across his body. “I was thinking,” tongue swept across her upper lip, “maybe we could get back to our afternoon plans instead.”

Bull smiled, his hands slid across her shoulders, wrapping about her waist, and he yanked her against him.

A small gasp escaped her, those liquid blue irises dancing as reddened lips parted.

His eyes dropped to the darkening bruise halfway up her throat, the mark his teeth left on her soft human skin. “I like the sound of that,” he murmured.

“I thought you might.” She tilted her head left, turning it slightly to expose her neck further. Blonde tresses brushed against her cheek, one index finger tracing the line of her windpipe. Coy gaze finding his through lowered, fluttering lashes. Her lips curved more, teasing, hips rolling gently against his lower body as her neck arched with her lower back. “What are your orders, boss?”

Lifting her chin with one finger, he stroked his thumb across soft lips and leaned in close. His large body crowded her, surrounded her with his presence. A smile touched his mouth and he let his voice fill her. “Undress yourself.”

Curving lips set his skin abuzz, a warm wet tongue peaking against his finger. Deft hands rose to the first golden button at the base of her collar.

He watched the first pop free.

 _Damn woman,_ he thought, feeling his arousal. _We were going to take things slow._

They still would. She enjoyed testing his self-control nearly as much as she enjoyed him telling her what to do. Almost as much as he enjoyed instructing her on when to sink those tiny human teeth into his neck, or her soft gasps as he pushed her to climax, her exuberant cries when she bucked beneath him. The look she gave him when he tied her hands behind her back or her arms above her head. The excited grin when he slipped a blindfold over her eyes.

Still, nothing beat holding her in his arms at the end and feeling her curl up on his chest, wrapped up in a warm blanket. Listening as he whispered old Qunari legends into her ear until she drifted off to sleep.

Her fingers parted her collar slowly, popping it wide to reveal other blackened bruises along her collarbone and chest, small scars left from where he’d massaged healing poultices into her skin, a red weal left from their last bit of exercise in the barn loft. She dragged fingertips down her skin, moving to the second button, then the third. Each exposing a bit more of her, the beginning cleavage of her beautiful breasts, the parts of himself he’d left on her and the parts of herself she’d left on him.

“What do you want?” he asked.

Those beautiful eyes sparkled, a heated turquoise, the summer warmed ocean surrounding Par Vollen. “You.”

Iron Bull smiled. There were days when she was simply magnificent.

His in every aspect, much as he hated himself for thinking it.

The door banged open and Daren Trevelyan came running through. “Tell me!” He skidded into the room. “Did it arrive?”

Except one.

“It’s here,” Alix said. “Right on time.”

“Wonderful!” Daren laughed. He strode forward, brushing past Bull, and seemingly oblivious to any state of undress. He leaned on the desk, eyes locked on the envelop; a mischievous grin spread across his mouth.

Pressing her knuckles to her lips, Alix hid a smile.

There it was, Bull knew. The moment gone.

Daren picked up a letter opener off the desk. “Do you want the honor?” he asked. “Or should I?”

“I know what it says,” Alix replied, her tone blithe and disinterested. She turned toward her twin, though Bull noticed, she didn’t bother buttoning her shirt. “It’s the same every year.”

“It could be different,” Daren said. “We’ve come up in the world since First Day last.”

“You think he’s conceding defeat?” Alix asked.

“My dear sister!” Daren flashed a grin, his head tilting slightly, and short blonde bangs fell across his brow. “Where would be the fun in that?”

Alix snorted.

“Alright,” Iron Bull growled. “I’ve been waiting for one of you to tell me what’s going on, but since you won’t, I’m asking.”

“Nothing worth worrying over,” Alix replied.

“Just an annual tradition,” Daren added. He lifted the letter opener and cut away the wax seal with a flick of his wrist.

“Then _why_ are you so damn excited?” Bull growled.

“Because it is exciting, Iron Bull,” said a voice from the door. “Obviously too much so for your poor barbarian mind to grasp.”

“Hello, Dorian,” Alix said. She crossed her arms. “So nice of you to invite yourself up.”

“I am the soul of politeness,” the Tevinter mage replied, walking into the room. “Yet when I inhaled such a foul stench in the safety of my comfy library corner, I couldn’t help following it. Lo’ I find it brings me here and, since your afternoon was already ruined, I’ve avoided the scolding.”

Bull grunted. “It wasn’t ruined.” He paused. “Yet.”

“It’s about to be,” Dorian countered. “Seeing it, I can hazard a guess to what that letter is.”

Alix sighed. “You’d be wrong.”

Bull glanced from Alix to Daren, leaning back against the wall. He could hear others in the stairwell, the heavy stomping of Cassandra in her armor, the light airy footsteps of Josephine, the soft squeal of Varric’s leather boots, and more. Most of the Inner Circle was on their way. He sighed, heavily. He wanted to brush this intrusion off, focus on the matter at hand instead of the curve of Alix’s neck or the fact she still hadn’t done up the buttons on her blouse. Years of Ben’hassrath training helped cover the disappointment, of course.

“Really?” Dorian continued, his voice lilting higher. “I’d bet half my summer villa that your handsome brother is holding a marriage proposal.” His eyes sparkled. “One meant for you, I imagine.”

 _Marriage?_ Bull straightened.

“Marriage?” Cassandra’s voice echoed from the doorway.

“You heard it right, Seeker,” Varric said. “Some fussy noble’s planning to ask for the Inquisitor’s hand.”

By the table, Daren chuckled. He and Alix glanced at each other, Bull noted their shared smiles. The same ones they always wore when they were in on some secret joke. The kind only they understood. He tried not to wrack his brain to discover what it was they found so humorous. _It should be easy to decipher,_ he thought. He’d worked out much more complex puzzles. Yet, the only part he could be sure of was that the others, especially Dorian, were flat wrong. “Planning on telling me you were getting married, boss?”

“Someone wants to marry you?” Josephine asked. She crossed into the room behind, Cassandra and Varric. Dainty footsteps carrying past them both to Daren, curious eyes on the envelope in his hand.

Alix laughed. She waved a hand in front of her, a negative. “I’m not getting married.”

“Julia,” Daren said with a nod. “It’s about Julia.”

“So this is a proposal in regards to this…” Dorian swallowed. “Julia?”

“No,” Alix replied. “Well, yes, but it’s not a marriage proposal.”

“Julia is already married,” Daren added. “Has been for,” he glanced at his sister, “six years?”

“Nearly seven, they’ve invited us to their Summerday ceremony. They’re re-consecrating their vows.”

“How kind,” Daren said. “Did we send a reply?”

“We accepted, of course.”

“Ah!” Josephine nodded. “I remember this! The Lord and Lady Murat, yes? I wondered at their rather strangely worded invitation.”

“So,” Varric paused. “No one is getting married?”

“No!” Alix laughed.

Iron Bull withheld a sigh, one of relief. “That’s good,” he said. “I was wondering who I’d have to kill.”

“Well if you do,” Varric said. “Invite me. You carving up some frilly Orlesian on the streets of Val Royeaux would make one hell of a story.”

Daren held up the envelope, long fingers drew out the thin sheaf of linen. Gold thread glinted on the edges. Crisp, clean, and nearly the purest white, with edges crisply cut. He unfolded it easily, his manner practiced and held it out for Josephine.

Suddenly, Bull wished he’d taken the time to sneak a little closer.

“This is an invitation to a private soiree,” she said, “hoisted by the Marquis de Caetani in Val Chemin. I’ve tried for weeks to arrange a meeting with his Grace.” She glanced up at Daren. “Many of the most powerful nobles in Orlais and Antiva will be here, it will be an invaluable opportunity for the Inquisition.” She leaned forward with sparkling brown eyes. “You must let me go with you!”

“Alberico’s invited us to a party?” Alix asked. “How sweet!”

“Quite chivalrous of him, considering,” Daren said.

“And…” Josephine trailed off. “He is also requesting a duel.” Her head twisted sideways, eyes widening, and she seized the missive. Lifting it up for a proper duel, her jaw went slack. “A _duel_?”

Crossing her arms, Alix grinned. “Did he send a glove again, Daren?”

“Indeed,” Daren nodded. His hand slipped back into the envelope and drew out a thin glove of fine red silk, threaded with silver and encrusted in small crystals. Gems. Rubies, if Bull had to guess. “He demands I slap you with it in his stead.”

“Charming,” Cassandra murmured, dryly.

An amused grin tugged the corner of Dorian’s mouth. Smoothing his mustache, he chuckled. “Given your particular interests, Alix, are you certain he’s not flirting?”

Bull grunted. “If he wanted an invitation, boss,” he murmured. “He just had to ask.”

“Perhaps this is his way of doing just that,” Dorian replied.

Alix chuckled.

“I do not understand,” Cassandra said. “Why does this man wish to duel you?”

The twins glanced at each other.

“I affronted his honor,” Alix said. “The story is uninteresting.”

“And now I know it’s fantastic,” Varric responded. “Spill, kid.”

Daren grinned. “She stole his prospective bride on the eve of the matchmaking.” He tossed the glove onto the nearby desk with a flourish. “Then, proceeded to take her on a three week tour which ended in the marriage bed.”

“I’m guessing it was without the Marquis,” Varric said. “Is this just about Alix? Or did you join in?”

Daren lifted his brows and his smile went crooked.

“Don’t exaggerate, brother,” Alix said.

“Yes, yes,” Daren said. “You merely rescued a delightfully innocent peer from a dreadful ordeal orchestrated by unfeeling parents, showing her a world she might never have known otherwise. Hardly worth mentioning.”

“A tour of what?” Josephine asked.

“Centers of pleasure, of course.” Daren smirked. “We arranged it so the Marquis believed they’d taken the first ship to Antiva City. Proper documentation, presented and kept at all the ports. He gave chase immediately, if I recall.”

“Alberico never was one to wait.” Alix’s lips twitched. “Not in life and, certainly, not in bed. Preferred rutting, in the hay.” She sighed. “Not an ounce of patience.”

“In the arms of some very high priced Madams imported at great cost from Rivain,” Daren added. His smirk grew wider, corner tilting it all further sideways. “He didn’t take them with him when he went. They were pleased to engage in a few diversions, they’d already been compensated and it staved off the boredom.”

“From the Marquis’ estates, Antiva City is a one week trip by ship in fair weather,” Josephine said. “Another week searching in the city, I suppose. Then, another to return.”

“Mmm,” Alix nodded. “Just in time for Alberico to catch us both in flagrante.”

“In the marriage bed?” Varric laughed. “Perfect timing there. Knowing you it was probably intentional.”

“We did invite him to join,” Alix said, “but he stomped off in a huff instead. Found me at breakfast the next morning and challenged me to a duel.”

“I can’t imagine her parents were pleased,” Josephine said.

“No,” Daren said. “However, given Julia’s most valuable asset was still intact, they forgave us.”

“Eventually,” Alix said.

“She was still a virgin?” Dorian asked. “After your wild tour?”

“Yes,” Alix replied with a grin. “Technically.”

Daren snorted. “She would know,” he said.

“So each year the Marquis sends a challenge and one of you fights him?” Josephine asked.

“It’s a tradition,” Daren said. “Usually we make Etienne do it, but he’s in Nevarra for tourney.” He glanced at Alix. “Since you’re Inquisitor now, I suppose I’ll have to step in.”

“You will not,” Cassandra said.

“Yes,” Josephine said. “I believe I understand.”

“Then explain,” Cassandra snapped. “Because it is the most foolish thing I have ever heard.”

“Julia de Levis, or de Challins as she is now known, was the third daughter of the Comte de Levis, a minor Orlesian noble and a recent addition to the noble houses of Orlais.”

“They made their fortune in cheeses,” Daren said. “Her grandfather still remembers what it was like to work a plow.”

“Yes,” Alix sighed. “Nouveaux riche. Poor girl.”

“She did have magnificent breasts though.”

“Of course,” Alix grinned. “They are how she won her third husband.”

“Is de Challins her third?” Daren asked. “I thought he was her fourth.”

“Fifth,” Alix said. “And her lover for three years before he married her.”

“How does one go through so many husbands?” Dorian asked. He leaned back on one leg, tucking his hands into his elbows. His head tilted. An amused smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Even we in Tevinter are not this quick to find replacements.”

“A series of unfortunate accidents,” Daren replied. “It’s quite tragic.”

“We were only too happy to assist,” Alix said.

“Though we can only claim a few,” Daren said.

The twins glanced at each other, sharing a smirk.

Bull felt himself stiffen. Both showed a surface level which was congenial and well-meaning, friendly, personable, made it easy to forget the snakes underneath. He could hardly blame them for it, they were capable and slid easily into a cover identity designed to fool anyone who looked too closely. The same was true for him, he simply went about it differently. Red was obviously a spy, she smelled spy-like and it was easy to see how she’d climbed to the top of the pile. Unlike her, the twins were nobles. They tended toward extravagance as was expected and, perhaps, that was entirely the problem. They felt disjointed with Orlesian society, but often just as silly. It became difficult to imagine either having a deadly or conniving bone in their body. Though, he witnessed their skill regularly and their cunning with every vat of honey exploded in Cullen’s office, he still found himself surprised on occasion.

Alix preferred the center, where everyone could see and it gave Daren opportunity to slip away unnoticed. He’d come to respect their teamwork, even if their linked natures had transitioned from intriguingly kinky to incredibly irritating.

“No wonder he wishes to duel you,” Cassandra muttered dryly.

“But why does he keep coming back?” Varric asked. “Seven years is a sign of serious dedication. Or a complex. Does he have one of those?”

They shrugged.

“The reason is of a personal nature,” Alix hissed a soft _tsk tsk_. “Informing you would be terribly impolite.”

“Break a solemn vow on our honor?” Daren asked. “We could hardly live with ourselves.”

Varric laughed. “You two are always full of such shit.”

“Well,” Josephine murmured. “He is Antivan, Varric. We do take our honor quite seriously.”

“The world would no longer be for us, brother,” Alix said. They clasped hands and she buried her nose in his chest.

“Indeed, sister!” Daren cried. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Pariahs in all circles of polite society!”

“It’s a wonder you’re both not already,” Dorian said.

Alix laughed.

Daren’s grin widened and he winked, slowly.

“You are usually so wonderfully astute, my dear Dorian,” Vivienne’s voice echoed from the doorway. “Yet your grasp of politics in the Empire remains woefully base.” Bull watched her gaze swing to the two Trevelyans. “Ah, and I see your invitation has arrived, my dears. I hope this year the two of you will finally put the Marquis out his misery.”

“Why would we kill him?” Daren asked.

“It’s so much better this way,” Alix said.

“It’d be impolite,” Daren added.

“True,” Alix nodded. “In bad form.”

“Terrible form,” Daren said.

“We’d never be invited to a soiree again.”

“Blacklisted.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Alix said.

“Never,” Daren agreed. “How would we ever taste de Beaux’s perfect summer tarts again?”

Bull watched the tiniest of smiles cross the Enchanter’s lips, the fond sort she only wore for creatures that were very much like her. Vivienne recognized them, where he hadn’t. The scheming bureaucratic politician saw a sneak for a sneak, a spy for a spy. The assassins hidden behind lazy smiles, proper titles, and silken gloves bearing the weight of a title which never properly fit. The situation, he supposed, was amusing in some absurd way. Even in recognition, he felt as if he was still missing some rather crucial information. The twins weren’t a spies in the way he was. They weren’t agents.

The aspects of his spy work he once relied on for the Ben’hassrath involved observation, noticing threats, but he had always relied on others to put those pieces together. _Perhaps I should talk to Red._ Asking Alix… well, he didn’t want her to know there were parts he couldn’t understand. _Knowing she’d slipped something by me, I’d never hear the end of it._ Or wonder if his initial assessments had been wrong.

_You go through years of Ben’hassrath training to hide facial expressions when I wasn’t looking?_

The thought flicked through him, the memory of when he’d been attacked.

His eyes returned to Alix’s sly smile, her glinting blue irises.

Had he been wrong? Bull wondered. Had he not looked closely enough? So filled with his own pain, his own damn cleverness, that she and Daren simply slid by him. Even in among the Ben’hassrath, a boss did not spy upon their subordinates unless they had a reason to suspect. What if the twins merely spied out of habit? What if she had read his reports and didn’t tell him? What if when important documentation went missing around Skyhold, it was them? Watching, still loyal to some cause other than the one they were thrust into.

_Perhaps, she is more Tamassren than I realized._

“Are you two done yet?” Cassandra asked.

“Almost,” Daren replied. “The House of Repose would never forgive us.”

“We’d have to break in again,” Alix said.

“Again?” Varric asked. He crossed his arms. “When was the first time?”

“It could get messy,” Daren said.

“Besides,” Alix finished. “This is easier.”

“And more fun,” Daren concluded.

“Regardless,” Vivienne said. “Humiliating the poor man over and over for sport is hardly acceptable for your current position, it was barely acceptable for his. The Marquis is not so foolish, my dears. No doubt he now plans to use this sordid affair to further his own ends.”

Daren swept one arm before him and descended into a graceful bow. “Astute as ever, Lady Vivienne.”

“It’s why we must go,” Alix said. “This year may prove to be quite entertaining.”

“Do not try to charm me, darling,” she replied. “I have precious little time for it.” She swept forward, all elegance, and plucked the invitation from Josephine’s hand. “Come to me this evening and we shall consider all our possible outcomes. No stone shall be left unturned, then,” her eyes narrowed, “and only then shall we proceed.” A long finger stroked the younger woman’s cheek, sliding down to gently lift her chin. “Your actions and reputation affects us all now, in your name do our fortunes rise and fall.”

Alix rolled her eyes, and exhaled a long, melodramatic sigh. “Yes, mother.”

Vivienne’s smile tightened. “You know as well as I the Game’s deadly nature. This will cost you, should you not be careful.”

“We will assuredly look to your advice, Madame,” Daren said. His eyes turned and he executed a slighter, shorter bow. “And yours, of course, Lady Josephine.”

Josephine’s cheeks flushed and she hid a smile behind her hand. “Your confidence in my abilities is most appreciated, Lord Trevelyan,” she said. “I will do the best I can.”

“And I suppose my opinion is no longer considered relevant?” Cassandra asked.

“Of course not, my dear Cassandra,” Vivienne said. “We merely expect cooler heads to prevail.”

“Cooler heads?” Dorian laughed. “More likely those with a stake in Orlesian politics. Should either of you be interested in my advice, cousins,” he added, “I will be more than ready to lend my rather extensive knowledge to your predicament.”

“Whatever happens, invite me along,” Varric said. He headed for the door. “I want to see how this turns out.”

Bull watched Alix roll her eyes a second time. “Daren,” she said. “We should at least accept the Marquis’ invitation.” With the outside of her left hand, she tapped her cheek and grinned. “Let’s make it official.”

“As you wish,” Daren answered with a grin.

“You cannot be serious,” Josephine murmured.

“You will find they are quite serious, my dear,” Vivienne replied, dryly.

Daren stepped forward, brandishing the glove. With the quick flip of his wrist, he struck Alix across the cheek. It bounced and fell, revealing a small cut left on her sun browned skin. Three tiny droplets slipped down Alix’s cheek.

The twins’ gazes met and then Daren’s bright blue irises fell to the glove. Then, for the first time, Bull caught his fingers flash, half-hidden by his thigh.

Alix tilted her head slightly, touching her cheek. An almost nod, Bull thought. Flicking away the blood with the sweep of a finger, she turned back to the rest of them. “I believe,” she said. “That is enough excitement for the day.”

“Now,” Cassandra said. “If the pair of you have finished being fools, there is work that requires your attention.”

“Indeed,” Daren said. He winked at Alix, tossing the glove onto the desk. “Shall we attend to it, my lady?”

“I am hardly your anything,” Cassandra replied. “In the future, you will refer to me by either my name or my title.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Cassandra made a rough, disgusted noise and then she was out the door.

Daren laughed, but he followed her. Vivienne went with him, then Josephine, then Dorian wearing a very smug smile, and finally, with a curious glance over his shoulder Varric. Bull had no doubt Daren would be back, eventually. The day’s work would keep him busy for a time.

He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. His gaze returned to Alix, but she wasn’t looking at him. Hers were on the desk, on the glove, with fingers pressed against her cheek. “Poisoned?”

She glanced over her shoulder, head tilting with a slight smile. “Yes, quite.”

“Antivan?” he asked.

“From the sting,” she tapped the cut, “Orlesian.” Her smile widened and she winced. “Don’t worry, Bull,” she added. “I knew it was coming. Alberico is predictable. Already took the antidote.”

“Good.” He crossed the room, careful to keep his voice level. “Don’t know why you put up with this crap, though.”

“It’s all part of the Danse Macabre, Iron Bull,” she replied. “Had Alberico truly believed he could kill me this way, he would not have sent it.” Her hand dropped back to the glove, fingertips running across the ruby edges. Her voice softened. “My death is not what he wants.”

“Okay,” Bull said slowly. “Now, I’m guessing this is the sort of backwards ass Orlesian bullshit only Vivienne can make sense of.”

Alix cocked her head, then her eyes rolled. She turned back to face him. “Your Qunari upbringing has left your mind a bit stiff,” she said. The playful quality was back, but he found himself unsure whether or not it was real. Her hand rose and she stroked his cheek. “I think you need some practice stretching.”

“Think if I twist you into enough knots you’ll bend round to my point?” he asked.

“Or you’ll finally see mine,” she replied.

His hands found her face, running a massive thumb up her cheek to the cut. Fine red lines stretched out about the reddened crack in her skin. “Either way, boss,” he said. At least, they weren’t spreading. “We take care of this first.”

Alix sighed.

“Hey,” Bull murmured. “Remember the rules.” He lifted her chin gently. “In this room…”

She smiled. “You’re the boss.”

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this wasn't supposed to end up this long. It wasn't supposed to have multiple chapters. It was supposed to be just a silly one off, but nothing works out quite as we plan does it? Mostly it's an exploration of sassy banter.
> 
> Looking back at Iron Bull and searching through his dialogue, I discovered that he finds politics, particularly politics amongst the nobility to be confusing and unnecessary. The twins on the other hand are a little more like Vivienne. They play the Game and they enjoy it. Alix likes... well, tormenting I suppose. Besides, no time for saving the word if you can go have a rousing adventure in Val Royeaux. This is also before Alix and Bull exchange the necklace of the Kadan.
> 
> Yes, it's all very silly and a little too long but I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
